Books of Blood
by ElnaKernor
Summary: TVD one-shots and first chapters: 2) When Alaric finds Damon Salvatore, he doesn't want revenge. He just wants for it to end 3) Two graves stands upon the place that has once been called Mystic Falls. 4 & 5) When Klaus possessed Alaric and fought Bonnie, it ended up being very bad for the history teacher. And Damon is feeling he shouldn't let his friend (?) die like that
1. I don't get it

_**Hear, Hear! This will be a collection of one-shots AND rather odd other things, all about Dalaric I guess, though it could not always be the case, we'll see as it comes. Fear for your sanity, dear readers, and... wait, no, that wasn't what I meant to tell you. Anyway:**_

 **I don't get it**

* * *

 _So, you see, the Storyteller doesn't understand why the fans want Damon and Alaric to end up together. Alaric doesn't even understand that the fans want him and Damon to end up together. The thing is, Damon does understand why he and Alaric should be together. Of course, when the Storyteller wants to get some answers from the two of them, to try and figure out why some fans are so obsessed with Dalaric, Damon goes to great lengths to make the Storyteller and Alaric understand. GREAT LENGTHS._  
 _Warning: written a bit like a play. So the actions are very... Crude isn't the word. Pure isn't either. Direct, maybe?_

* * *

 _Everything is dark. Footsteps are heard. Probably a parquet flooring. Silence again. Not anymore. Someone clears his throat._

S: "Light, please. It's too dark in here."

 _A projector is turned on. A woman is sitting on a metal stool. She's wearing a black suit._

S: "Now, you two, you can come in."

 _Whispers are heard. Then footsteps coming from the left. Two persons. Then silence again. The woman look angrily somewhere in the dark._

S: "I need to see them too. Turn on the other projector."

 _A second projector is turned on. Two men are sitting on a large black leather couch. They don't seem to know why they're here. One appears to be bored. The other, patient. The first one has raven black hair. The other, light brown hair. Both of them are wearing the same attire. Black shirt, gray pants, black shoes._

D: "Just so you know, I did nothing bad. So I shouldn't be here."

 _The other man elbows him in the stomach._

A: "What are you implying? That I'm the one who fucked up? Besides, you're always doing evil things. Such as, seducing your brother's girlfriend."

D: "I'm only doing what the Storyteller decided I would be doing. I don't even like Elena that much. I mean, yes, I care about her, but that's all."

S: "Both of you, that's enough!"

 _The woman seems to be quite angry._

S: "None of you did anything wrong. But I have issues with the current story, and since I'm the Storyteller, it's not good at all. Now, I'm going to ask you some questions, and I'd like you to answer honestly."

 _The first man yawns conpiscuously. The other punches him without putting much strength in it._

A: "What's the matter, Storyteller?"

S: "I'm glad you asked, Alaric. Damon doesn't seem very pleased with our conversation, on the other hand. Could you at least make him behave for now?"

A: "I'll try. I can't promise anything, though."

 _Damon winces. Alaric punches him once more. The vampire winces at him. The hunter twists his friend's nose. Damon swears, then begins to sulk. He's not saying anything anymore._

S: "So, you see, I have a problem. Some of the fans... want your relationship to be... more than friendship, and I don't get why."

 _The Storyteller is fidgeting. Damon sneers. Alaric frowns._

A: "I don't get it."

 _The vampire gives him a sidelong glance. Then he looks at the ill-at-ease woman. And turns back to look at Alaric, sitting beside him. He shortens the distance between them._

D: "They want us to be more than friends."

A: "Best friends? Aren't we already?"

 _Damon rolls his eyes. He looks exasperated. It doesn't last long. A smirk grows larger on his lips._

D: "Being clueless doesn't suit you, Ric. The fans want. Us. Together."

 _The hunter still doesn't seem to understand. Damon puts a hand on the man's nearest knee._

S: "I don't mean to interrupt, but... I'm here, you know."

 _Damon withdraws his hand. He's facing Alaric now._

D: "I know you're here. Watch, and you'll get why they want it so much."

 _The woman tries to reply, but finds nothing to say. She blushes when she sees the vampire's fingers undoing Alaric's shirt's top button._

D: "They're not the only one who want it, you know, Ric. If you don't get it, how about I show you what I mean?"

 _Damon's hands move to the second, and then the third button. He puts his hand against Alaric's chest, tangles his fingers in the chest hair. The hunter smiles._

A: "So you don't like me playing clueless. Duly noted. Now, if you tell me what you want exactly, I might be able to help you getting it, don't you think?"

D: "I said that being clueless doesn't suit you. I never said playing clueless doesn't. Now I guess that was an invitation, so I'm going to show you how much I appreciate it."

A: "Go on, please. I'd love to know more about your desires."

 _The Storyteller's face goes blank as she listen to the two men._

D: "I want a lot of things. Amongst those are many that only you can fulfill."

 _Alaric arches an eyebrow. Damon leans on the couch, elbows near the hunter's legs, chin in his hands. Alaric unwinds a bit. The vampire raises his right hand, his head now cocked to the left, and touches the man's knee once again. His fingers goes up along the gray fabric of the pants. They stop when they reach his crotch. They appears to hesitate. Then they make up their mind, and the whole hand settles down._

D: "First of all, I want what is under this useless piece of clothing."

A: "Then go forth, and get rid of it."

 _The vampire looks up to see a grinning hunter. Then he looks down and smiles._

D: "You're the one who permitted it. Don't you dare regret it later."

 _Damon stands up._

D: "Would you, dear Alaric, get on your feet?"

 _The hunter complies with an amused look. Damon comes unnecessarily closer to him. They look each other in the eyes while the vampire's hands seeks Alaric's fly zipper._

A: "I thought you were interested in what is in my pants, not in what is on my face."

D: "I said I wanted many things."

 _He opens the zipper, squeezes the growing bulge in the hunter's grey underpants._

D: "This is only a part of what I want from you."

 _The vampire takes a step back. Then he kneels down and begins to untie the man's shoes. Alaric looks mildy curious. When his shoes are undone, he takes a step back. Damon moves the shoes away, behind the leather couch. He comes back to the hunter, pulls the pants down. Alaric takes another step back. He's almost in the dark. Damon moves the pants away, behind the couch. He goes back to the hunter._

D: "Give me your foot."

 _Alaric complies and raises his left leg. The vampire takes his time touching it, caressing it. Then he takes off the black sock and silently asks for the other foot. The man complies. Same performance. The Storyteller squeals, her hands hiding her face, but her fingers apart. They look at her as if they had forgotten she was here. Damon grins. Alaric smirks. The vampire throws the socks away, behind the couch. They ignore her again. Damon takes two steps back._

D: "Come here, Ric."

 _The hunter obeys with a smug smile. They're in the middle of the illuminated space again._

A: "Surely you didn't only want to have me half-naked in front of you?"

D: "It becomes interesting now."

A: "So it wasn't before?"

 _Damon puts his hands on the man's back and squeezes against him as he kisses Alaric. The hunter's hands go for the vampire's back but Damon breaks their kiss before they get there._

D: "I'm the one leading here. You only do what I ask you to do."

 _Alaric laughs._

A: "Alright, big boss."

 _The vampire frowns._

A: "For now."

D: "Would that be insubordination that I heard in your words?"

A: "Insubordination it might become if you don't prove yourself to be up to the task. So, what did you want to do with my genitals?"

 _The vampire touches the said parts through the underpants._

D: "I was thinking of putting them somewhere special."

 _Damon kneels down. His hands linger around Alaric's hips. The hunter shudders. Then the hands grasp the underpants and pull them down. Alaric stays still with difficulty. Damon looks pleased with the hard length he sees and soon takes it in his mouth. There are licking, horny kissing, forced immobility involved. When he finishes it, the vampire looks up to see the hunter staring at the unseen ceiling while trembling._

D: "Up to the task?"

 _Alaric's voice is shaking._

A: "Definitely."

 _Damon tries to stand up, but fails, so hard himself that he isn't certain he can hold it together. Alaric calms down and looks at the vampire in sexual haze. Seeing how Damon is panting, hands pressed on his crotch, he smirks._

A: "Still insisting that you're the one in charge?"

 _The vampire grumbles. Alaric gets his underpants completely out of the way before talking again._

A: "I can't understand you, Damon, you need to articulate a bit more."

 _Damon growls._

D: "I can't stand up."

 _The hunter kneels down and puts his own hands on Damon's._

A: "You might want a bit of help with that. Ready to reverse roles?"

D: "Stop teasing and help me, goddamn it."

A: "As you wish, my dear."

 _Damon lets him push his hands away. The man slowly unfastens the vampire's fly and pushes his right hand in his pants._

A: "I should have known you were going commando."

 _The vampire flinches when Alaric squeezes his length. Not long later, he seems a bit relieved. Alaric frowns, trying to look disappointed._

A: "You're not supposed to come just yet, you know. I should be allowed to play with you as much as you did with me."

D: "As if my teasing hadn't been affecting me too. And for your information, I haven't had sex for months. I have every rights not to last long."

A: "You, not having sex for months? You're kidding me, right?"

D: "I'm supposed to court Elena, because of some stupid Storyteller. Doesn't mean I'm not fantasizing over somebody else outside of the story known to all. And it happens that the guy I'm currently getting horny over had to wait to be called to the said Storyteller's office to make me understand I should definitely go for it. It's been months, Ric."

 _The Storyteller shrinks on her stool. She tries not to see what is happening. She risks a glance to the other side of the room, where a ray of light can be seen from under a door. Her eyes see the man and the vampire. She blushes and moves no more._

D: "Ric, I definitely need more than a little handjob. Since you decided to take part, do it until the end, you dumbass!"

 _Alaric winces and grabs the vampire's arm. He makes him stand up, undoes his shoes and pants quickly, casts everything aside and half-tosses Damon on the leather couch._

D: "I get it, I won't insult you ever again during sex."

A: "Who said there's going to be a next time?"

 _The vampire smirks. Alaric doesn't seem to be angry at all._

D: "Your dick says there will be a next time."

A: "Getting cocky already, aren't we?"

D: "Well, between two guys, you can't avoid to get to cocks at some point, can you?"

 _Alaric doesn't reply, and begins kissing him hungrily, while inserting two fingers in Damon's ass. The vampire moans. A metallic sound disturbs them. Damon grumbles when the hunter's attention goes to the source of the fuss. The Storyteller has fallen to the ground, her stool rolling on the floor next to her._

S: "Stop it! You're incredibly hot together, you're terrific as a couple, you'd be every slash fan's dream, I get it, I get it, now, please, stop before I turn into a pornographic storyteller!"

 _She stops talking to breathe, then goes at it again._

S: "Or at least, let me leave before you continue your... fonduing."

D: "No one ordered you to stay in the first place. That's a pretty private moment you were spying on, you know."

 _The vampire sounds annoyed. The Storyteller walks through the room hastily, opens the door, leaves, closes the door. Alaric's mind goes back to the vampire leaning under him._

A: "I had forgotten she was here the moment you did this wonderful thing with your lips."

D: "Well, I never did. Now, could you please go back to what we were doing or do I need to threaten that I won't give you a blowjob ever again if you don't fuck me already?"

A: "That's asked so nicely, I guess I have no choice then."

 _They kisses. Then the hunter smiles and sits up straight. He takes his fingers out of Damon. Alaric takes a deep breathe. The lights go out._

* * *

 _And now I need to see this play. Damn me._


	2. A different turn of events

**A different turn of events**

* * *

 _Damon was getting happily drunk at the Mystic Grill when he noticed a man taking a seat at the bar counter. Half-wasted, he took an interest in observing the man... up till the point he was not half-wasted anymore._

 _Or what if Alaric had been too broken to even try to kill Damon and was only searching for answers._

* * *

 _I started this, I only wanted to write something about their two rings colliding during their first encounter. Strangely enough, it became much more._

* * *

Everything was so loud.

People laughing, people talking, people arguing. Maybe that was the risk with going to a bar to get a drink instead of simply going home and siphoning off a bottle of bourbon. But still. The place was so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts.

Which was a bit ridiculous since, you know, one person's thoughts are supposed to be in his head. You can't hear them, right? Still, he couldn't. Too much noise.

Too much alcohol too, certainly. If he hadn't been at least a bit drunk, Damon was certain he wouldn't be thinking about what should be a vocabulary misuse and yet wasn't.

Someone sat down two barstools away.

The vampire rose his head, a bit curious. Sometimes, when he had had too much drinks, he was curious about stupid things. As, why was the color yellow named yellow, or why people tended to despise him.

It was a man.

He actually had already seen him at the Mystic Grill once or twice before, but not before recently. A newcomer, maybe? Or a returnee. Or a man who had had some shitty business lately and had begun to come here and drown his sorrow in an alcoholic stupor. Pretty much what he was himself doing. And, as a matter of fact, Damon was positive it worked. After all, he didn't remember what had lead him to the bar, drinking himself to death or so he wished he could do.

It was a young man, all in all, even though he looked older than Damon. But a lot of people looked older than Damon, and yet he was older than they were. His body had not aged a day since 1864. Vampires' privilege.

So, a young man, around his... thirties?

He looked a bit tired, and was already asking the bartender for a glass of bourbon.

Same tastes, eh? Interesting.

The vampire squeezed his eyes a bit. His vision was getting blurred. Or maybe not. Damon closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again. There it was, all better. Maybe he shouldn't have taken one last glass of alcohol. Or, more likely, the five last drinks had been unecessary.

The man took a sip of his own drink.

The moment a drop of bourbon ran down his chin instead of going into his mouth seemed to last forever. The amber colored liquid had strayed out of the artistically delimited lips, and now it was searching its way across the almost inexistant blond beard.

The glass made a snapping sound when it was put down on the bar counter.

A finger reached for the lost drop of bourbon, which soon disappeared, swiped away.

The man seemed to hesitate, sighed, and passed his finger on his lips. Then his hand went up and ran through his light brown hair.

Damon thought it would be nicer if he let it grow a bit.

But who was he to care about that?

The vampire closed his eyes as he finished his glass. You could always get drunker. Or at least you could if you were a vampire. Though, now that he thought about it, Damon remembered passing out from too much alcohol once or twice in his decades long life. For now, he could, anyway, and he wasn't going to miss the opportunity.

It's time to forget.

Forget what?

His worries.

Which were?

The vampire blinked. He couldn't remember. Proof it went smoothly, just as it was supposed to. Let's forget everything that makes our hearts hurt, shall we?

He put down his own glass, and wondered for a while if he would take another one or just head back to the boarding house, tumble down on his bed, and sleep to his heart's content.

He was still uncertain of what to do when the man two seats away asked for another glass.

Damon looked at him once more. He was reading some papers.

The man apparently noticed he was being watched, because he looked sideway and their eyes met.

That's when Damon saw it.

Rage swirling in the blue eyes, just for a single second, so strong and fierce the vampire could have broken down from just this glare if it had lasted any longer. Anger, hot and intense and burning as hellfire, lighting those eyes from the inside. A light so terrible it destroyed the slightest hint of darkness in what could be seen of the man's soul. A fire so blazing it burnt to ashes every shred of humanity in the man's eyes. Pure madness, reduced to two terrific balls of hatred, barely hidden in the shallowness of one's pupils.

One second.

And then nothing else. The eyes of the man were perfectly normal, up still wasn't down, right and left hadn't become left and right, and no one had tried to blown up the Mystic Grill. The whole world couldn't have been any more unexceptional.

Damon gulped, staggering on his bar stool.

The man smiled and reached out to him.

"Alaric Saltzman. I'm the new history teacher."

Damon frowned at his glass. He didn't believe he was so drunk he started seeing things.

"Sorry, I was thinking of something else. So, you're my brother's new teacher, then. I'm Damon Salvatore, the big brother, and pointless guardian of Stefan Salvatore. Not sure you already met him, though, lately I simply can't get him to leave the house, family drama and teenager drama and health issues and all..."

The vampire shook hands with the man, still glaring at his glass as if a fairy or an alien was going to pop out of it. But nope, no fairy, no alien, and the man, Alaric, was it? still looked like a perfectly charming man. So either Damon was becoming mad, or he was a little drunk. What was sure was that it wasn't a dream. Maybe he was drunk and crazy.

The world started to spin around.

That was the signal he'd better stop drinking and just go home, certainly.

"Wish you luck with your copies... I guess? I'm not sure, I think I'm pretty stunned. I'd rather go home before I fall asleep on the bar counter. Always saying I shouldn't drink so much, and I never listen. Not my fault if my life is a mess, really. Screw Katherine. What was I talking about, already? I really, really need to go home, this is getting ludicrous."

The teacher watched him get on his feet without saying anything.

Damon tried to walk away.

Strangely enough, he couldn't. As if...

He looked back at the counter, and saw his own hand, still holding on his glass, but apparently unwilling to move it or to let go of it. He frowned. His hand had no reason to be glued to a glass. So why couldn't he let go of it and simply leave?

If his body wasn't responding to his desires, he was definitely wasted.

"Come on, I have to go home..."

Still not complying. Damon had no idea his hand could be such a pain. Rebellious stage, maybe?

Alaric Saltzman watched him struggle with his hand, and smirked. After a little while, he reached out for the glass and put two fingers on its edge. He had a black, voluminous ring, that looked strangely familiar. The man pressed gently on the glass. Their skin came into contact.

It was freaking cold. Humanly cold, yes, but freaking cold. Damon wasn't sure he had already met someone with such cold hands.

His hand let go of the glass.

"Better, now?"

"Thanks. I don't... know what that was. Drank too much, certainly."

The teacher nodded.

Damon tried to leave.

His legs didn't let him do so and he'd have fallen to the ground if the man hadn't caught him by the wrist.

"Hold on there. You're definitely not able to go home."

"Yet I have to. Can't stay here all night, can I?"

"I'll drive you back."

That was too much kindness to be genuine, the vampire thought. But he was in no state to judge a situation. How many decades since the last time he had been so drunk he couldn't even stand on his feet? Three, or four, maybe. He wasn't sure. After all, the memories of that time were pretty... fuzzy.

Alaric let go of his wrist, watching with concern if Damon could walk properly or not.

He couldn't.

"Sit down a moment, then we'll go."

The vampire remembered he didn't like people bossing him around. Which was strange, since he didn't seem to bother right now. There was something with this man's voice, which was kind of conforting. So calm, and yet slightly bitter. As the voice of a man who's life had been shattered, broken into pieces, hammered flat till there was nothing left of it. As the voice of a man who couldn't care much about anything now. As the voice of a man who was the same as him.

Destroyed to the core.

The teacher paid for his drinks, then came back.

"You're coming?"

"Yes."

The man reached out to support him as Damon wasn't really steady on his feet. The vampire reached out to grab onto his arm. Their hands almost met each other. Their rings tinkled as they brushed one another.

It was a pure, flawless sound. Metallic, resonant, short sound.

Their eyes met.

There it was.

Hatred.

He hadn't been daydreaming when he had seen it in the man's eyes, not long before. Or he was daydreaming now too. Eitherway, there it was.

The most perfect, consuming hatred, in the eyes of a man he had never met before. A flawless feeling, as the sound of their rings colliding, storming in the blue of two human eyes.

It didn't last long. One second, and then nothing more. Perfectly normal gaze.

Damon cocked his head to the left. Or maybe his head cocked itself to the left, he couldn't really say if it was his will or the alcohol that was tilting his body in ways that were definitely not natural.

"I know you."

He hadn't noticed before, but he knew the man from before. Something about a bedroom, maybe. There was a woman, too. Damon snorted. There was always a woman. Each time there was a problem, there was a woman involved. Maybe he should stop trying to get the girl, after all. Could only end badly. He should have known, by now. It was always ending badly. But which girl was he thinking about, anyway? Not sure. He'll try and figure out later.

Nonetheless, he had seen this face before coming back to Mystic Falls, he was certain of it.

The teacher smiled, but his smile was cold, unpleasant, threatening. Anger was flaming up his blue iris, and the vampire wasn't sure it was blue anymore, but who cared? The purity of the feeling igniting the man from the inside was spellbinding. Never before he had seen such intensity.

Damon felt jealousy crushing his chest. It was as if something was pressing on his ribs and making them collapse on his internal organs. What would he have given to experience such a purity in his feelings? Such strenght, such authenticity for him to be drowned into, completely forgetting himself? To be a thunderbolt of sensations, to live for nothing else than the thrill. Not caring, for real this time, about anything else than the intensity of feelings. Devastating feelings, able to anihilate the little that was left of his ethics.

It was a vain wish. A self-destructive wish, surely. But still. Sometimes, you only wish to forget. This time, Damon did.

They left the Grill. The vampire was almost able to walk by himself, but from time to time, Alaric had to stop him from falling to the ground.

It was strange. The man was gentle with him, though he openly showed his hatred towards Damon. As if there were two of him. One that hated. One that loved. More than two of him, maybe. One that cared. One that mocked. One that helped. One that abandonned.

"You know me, indeed."

The vampire sat in a car he knew wasn't his. Surely the teacher's.

Alaric sat at the driver's seat, and started the car.

"Where do you live?"

No one answered.

The man looked at the vampire sitting next to him. He was asleep.

Alaric sighed and drove home. He somehow managed to drag Damon in his apartment, and left him to rest on his bed. The vampire was sleeping, and it seemed as if he was completely dead this time.

The teacher watched him sleep for a while, then went and grabbed some stakes from his drawer. He then sat down on a chair, and waited.

He hated this vampire more than anything else in the world. He knew that. And yet, he knew he couldn't have cared less that the one who had killed his wife was actually sleeping on his bed.

Lately, he hadn't cared much about anything.

Damon Salvatore. A name he had engraved in his memory from the day he had learned it.

A freaking vampire. Dead, yet undead. Who had killed his wife after having sex with her. Or, more likely, while having sex with her. But had he killed her?

Isobel, always searching for the supernatural. Never happy with what she had. Loving her husband unconditionally, and yet aching for so much more. Alaric smiled a sad smile. Aching for so much more. Wasn't he the one, now, who was yearning for so much more?

Be it death, be it life, be it love.

Whatever.

Isobel, dying from her obsession.

Isobel was a disease, and while leaving this world, she had made sure she had infected her husband.

Alaric was tired.

The way he had been feeling everything so strongly lately was tiring. And in a way, it had lead him not to feel anything anymore. The hatred, the love, the frustration were still there. He could feel them. But he... they didn't reach him anymore. It was strange.

Maybe his mind was coming to an end. Feeling things so purely couldn't be good for the human mind. He was already estranging himself from them. As if they weren't exactly a part of him anymore. Too pure to be human.

Even thinking that he might have been on his way to dying was meaningless to him, now. It should have frightened him. It hadn't. Why should he be afraid? Fear wasn't a part of him anymore, too.

Thinking about it, not being freaked out by his state of mind, Alaric felt like an empty shell.

It wasn't a problem. He didn't care, after all.

His gaze fell upon the sleeping vampire on his bed.

All he wanted was an answer. Knowing, nothing less, nothing more. Maybe he wouldn't care about the answer. Maybe he would. It wasn't the issue. He had decided, in the week following Isobel's death, that he'd find out where was her body. He would stick to this decision.

The teacher wasn't sure of what he'd do once he'd know.

Maybe his heart would heal, and he'd go back to being a proper human being, with, you know, actual feelings. Maybe he'd lose his last raison d'être, which wasn't really one anymore anyway, and would only wish to end it.

Eitherway.

He couldn't stay the way he was.

It was way too tiring. And yet he didn't feel like sleeping. Not for now, at least. When he'd be too tired, he'd fall asleep. It had been this way for months now.

The man looked up.

There was a clock on the wall. Ticking its way through time with little concern of what was going on in the room, it worked well, and Alaric watched it for hours before turning his head to look at the vampire on his bed, finally moving and most likely waking up.

The first thing Damon noticed when he opened his eyes, was that he wasn't in his room.

Luckily for him, vampires weren't affected by such petty things as a hangover.

"Where the hell am I?"

"In my apartment. You passed out before telling me where you lived, so I took you home and put you to sleep. Try not to drink so much next time."

Of course, the fact that the man saying this had a stake in his hand and three other weapons on the table next to him alarmed the vampire.

First of all, how could the man know he was a vampire? Alaric Saltzman, if it was really his name, had no bite mark anywhere visible, so Damon hadn't attacked him half-sleeping. Or at least, he hoped so. Because if he had, and both of them were still in one piece, then the man wasn't a man. And if he wasn't a man and was the one having a stake in hand, and if, for any reason, he wanted Damon dead, then Damon was as good as dead.

Let's say Damon hadn't attacked him and he was purely human. It would be better for everyone. Truly. Let's say no one was going to die in the next hour, that no one was going to try and kill someone else, that Alaric Saltzman was only fond of stakes.

Yeah, that's it, let's say the world wasn't shitty and surely planning a revenge for every single one of the vampire's misdeeds over the last decades.

"We know each other, don't we?"

Alaric put the stake on the table, clearly pointing out he wasn't here as a threat. Or maybe he was simply stupid.

"Knowing might be a bit much, but yes, we already met each other. Last time I saw you, you were feeding on my wife in our bedroom."

The vampire frowned. If the teacher wasn't lying, he surely didn't have any good feeling towards him. Still, the stakes were on the table, and not in the man's hands.

"That being said, I'd like to know where is her body."

"They never found the body? Then..."

Indeed, the man's face was familiar.

"You're Isobel's husband?"

Alaric tensed up.

"I am."

"Well, then, I hate to break it to you, but I didn't kill her. Well, not exactly. She..."

"She asked you to turn her."

Damon looked him in the eyes, surprised. Not only the teacher hadn't killed him on the spot, but he wasn't even startled. Maybe he had known from the beginning, somewhere in the darkest spot of his mind, that Isobel had most likely tried to become a vampire at some point. Sure, he couldn't have been certain she had succeeded, after all, the vampire she asked could have simply killed her. But somehow, he had known it was a possibility.

The vampire shuddered. For a second, he had seen hurt in the man's eyes, enough suffering to madden anyone, but it was already gone.

"I see."

And that was all.

I see.

"You're no going to kill me?"

Alaric looked at him, a bit surprised.

"You'd want me to?"

"No. I was only wondering, since, you know, I kind of ruined your life and all..."

"Isobel ruined my life. You wouldn't have done it, she'd have found another vampire to ask. I could be angry at you, if you had killed her instead, but you didn't. What am I supposed to do? Be angry at any random person who helped my wife to get away from me and our ordinary life? If so, I'll may need many more killing devices, because I'll have to kill the ones who gave her fake ID or whatever. I don't intend to spend the rest of my life on a killing spree, thank you very much."

The more the vampire listened to the man, the more it sounded as if the teacher wasn't planning on having a very long rest of his life. Damon didn't understand why, but that bothered him more than it should have.

Alaric reached for a knife, right next to the stakes, and looked at it ominously without saying a word. Then, without a warning, he stabbed his own neck.

Damon wasn't thinking.

It didn't matter.

He rushed to the man's side, tore open his own wrist, and forced him to drink some of his blood, before taking the knife out of his flesh. This way, his blood had already begun to heal Alaric when he pulled out the blade. They only had to hope it wasn't too late, that the wound would close completely, that the man would live.

If he didn't, Alaric Saltzman would still come back to life, but given his state of mind, the vampire wasn't sure he would accept to complete the transition. Hell, Damon didn't even know him, he couldn't even be certain that the man would be okay with being a vampire if he hadn't been in a suicidal mood.

And, first of all, why had he tried to save him?

Damon wasn't Saint Stefan. He didn't save people out of kindness. So why had he saved Alaric?

It wasn't because of guilt, either. After all, he was Damon bastard Salvatore, the killing maniac vampire. If each time he had killed someone he felt like he needed to compensate and save a family member, he'd be a bloody blood bank by now. Which would be pretty hilarious, but still.

Alaric spat out blood and tried to breathe with little results. He sat up, spat some more blood on the floor, and looked at Damon with a lost gaze.

"Why?"

The vampire remembered the night before. How he was curious about this man, so strange, so freaking him out, so human yet. How he was paying him more attention than he had ever paid a man attention before. How, without realizing, he had been watching him move, breathe, live.

Why?

He honestly had no idea.

But here he was, with the broken soul of a man he had just saved after having destroyed his whole life, with his own broken soul that suddenly started to feel like it was a complete piece and not some random chunks of a formless thing without a name.

Why?

"I don't know."

Alaric looked at him with wide eyes for a while, surely considering how much of a twisted situation they were in. His features tensed, and Damon feared to see the rage from before pervading his eyes once again.

The man began to laugh. It was a tiny, gentle, sweet laughter, with sparkles of joy and gems of happiness in it. Maybe he still had something to live for, if he still had something to laugh at.

Alaric let himself fall on the ground once more, but much more smoothly. Damon, bewildered until then, had him to sit up once again.

"There's blood everywhere on the floor, man. Your blood. And now you have blood-dyed hair. That will be hell to clean. Why the fuck did you do that to begin with?"

"Thanks for saving me."

"That's not an answer."

Alaric ignored him and tried to stand up, but all he achieved was bloodying the nearest chair and falling on his back once more. Damon rolled his eyes and gave him a hand.

"Time to shower, idiot. Here, stand up, and don't fall on your ass again."

The teached finally got up, but he wasn't very steady on his feet and tripped. The vampire caugh him before he fell once again, and they found themselves in a strange and uncomfortable hug.

Damon wished he could have pushed Alaric away, but the man's legs were still staggering. They stayed still a bit longer, until they were positive his knees weren't going to give in anytime soon. And while they stayed motionless in this awkward hug, Damon's heart began racing.

Alaric had said something he couldn't possibly inderstand. Too illogical.

"Thank you so much, Damon. For everything."


	3. Our graves are to remain silent

**Our graves are to remain silent**

* * *

 _There are two graves on the top of the hill. They have been there for years, or decades, or maybe centuries. No one remembers the men whose names are on the tombstones. No one knows who are the people who sometimes visit. But the graves were never forgotten and though time has passed, people still talk about the strange tombstones standing over the place that was once a city by the name of Mystic Falls._

* * *

 _So I was reading Harry Potter all over again. And then I was no-give-me-back-my-Sirius! And then I thought about Death. And then I thought abour graves. And then I though about characters who had died. And then I thought about Ric and Damon. And then I though about this._  
 _And I'm definitely not brooding._

* * *

It's here.

Mystic Falls has long gone to dust. Years and decades and centuries have gone by. Some people are still there, undead and undying. Others are dead and have been for years and decades and centuries. Some died in battles, others in their bed. Some died eyes wide open, others eyes closed. Some died humans, others died monsters. Yet in the end, everyone died, and those who are still alive by now will die one day too. Even the oldest and strongest beings will die eventually. Silas and Amara had been enough of a proof. Even the Immortals would end up dying. The Originals would too, at some point. Average vampires would all the same. Death was the only outcome, regardless of how many times it could be delayed.

Time.

Time has seen the world evolve. It had seen the rise of makind, and it would see its fall. One day, there wouldn't be any living beings left on Earth, not even undead beings. One day the Earth would fall apart. One day the Universe would shrink and disappear. Yet Time would still be, and everything would start anew.

Or maybe it wouldn't. Maybe the end would be real.

No one could say.

But two things were sure.

The past couldn't be changed.

And two graves would remain up till the end of this world, side by side, watching over the place that had once been Mystic Falls.

Everyone remembers the city. But no one knows who are the two men whose tombstones are up the hill. Of course, they are all able to read. But whenever they try to remember, there is nothing in their memories about the two names engraved in the stone. They can read these names. They know the last names begin with the three same letters. They know one of the first name is the one of two kings from ancient times. They might even know people with the same first name as the second one.

But they have no memory of who could the two men be. As if their deaths had happened centuries ago. Which is odd, since every year on the same day, the first of May, a young man comes here and sit next to the first grave on the left. Which is odd too, since no one seems to remember when he started coming, and no one seems to remember him being younger at some point.

If you ask him who are the two men buried here, he smiles. He doesn't seem sad. Not anymore.

The only thing he will tell you, is that they were two wonderful men who cared much for everyone he knew, and who were dear to many people. That they were men of heart who had lived the most gruesome lives, engulfed in passion and despair. That they had died together and were to remain together even in death.

This young man is always here that day, and he always sits next to this grave. He stays here for hours, and sometimes he talks. He talks about the ones that are still not dead. He talks about the ones that died during the year. He talks about this girl who doesn't come anymore, but used to come and visit the graves with him. He says he misses her.

But Death always visits the livings at some point. It does the same with the undead ones.

The young man knows that one day he'll get to rest to. He's not really eager to, but he guesses it will be a relief. Each time he comes he looks at the scenery that used to be a city, Mystic Falls. Each time he seems ill-at-ease, remembering how it used to be his home.

How much time has passed since his home has been destroyed? How much time has passed since the boarding house has been left to rot? How much time has passed since he has last entered their house? How much time has passed since the house wasn't one anymore?

He's not sure anymore. Years and decades and centuries, surely.

He was still young when Damon and Alaric had died. Not even two centuries old. Now, he was so much older. The time he had spent with his brother was so little compared to the time he had spent alone.

At the end of the day, the young man stands up and leaves. He'll be back next year. Unless he dies.

He hopes Death will come for him soon.

Yet he is simply gone for now, and the graves are still there.

Sometimes, other people come to visit these graves. They're not many, and they don't come often, once every twelve, twenty, thirty years maybe, but they still come.

They are strange people, and if you ask them, they will answer you that those two men were wonderful people and didn't deserve to die the way they died. One of them is a man dressed to the nines and with perfectly styled hair. He doesn't talk much. Another one is a young woman who talks a lot and is always trying to control everything. She mostly complain about Klaus being an ass and killing people on a whim, though everyone says he's being a lot nicer now that he knows she's not going anywhere. Other visitors are member of a family, the Bennetts, who come here each time one of their children is old enough to hear about a family story, and how two people had saved the lives of many, including their ancestors, at the price of their own lives.

Yet no one around here knows who are these people, and who were those two men.

The tombstones, though, are still here standing.

They are made of grey stone, have intricated engraving, and they'd look exactly alike if it were not for the names and the dates that aren't the same.

You might think there is something wrong with the dates. After all, the grave on the left has two dates of death, and say that "Damon Salvatore" was one hundred and eighty-five years old when he died for the second time. Moreover, the grave on the right is engraved with no less than nine dates of death, which is the same number as a cat's lives. Yet there is little chance that a cat would be named "Alaric Saltzman".

Maybe there is something wrong with the dates. Still, when you ask the visitors, they only smile at you and nod sadly. They don't seem to be bothered by the dates.

It is a popular spot since decades already, here. These tombstones tickle the curiosity of many people, even if most of them don't try to uncover anything about the truth behind the graves. They only enjoy coming here and watching in silence as dusk drown the stone in a crimson light.

No one knows if the two men whose graves are side by side have even been real in any other way than "once upon a time". Maybe they are nothing more than a hoax. After all, there is definitely something wrong with the dates. And it was so long ago, if you were to trust it. Still, Damon and Alaric are something of a folk legend around here.

And when night falls upon the graves, it is said that two ghosts can be seen sitting on their tombstone and sharing a ghostly drink without saying a word.

But that might be nothing more than an intriguing tale.

* * *

 _The laughter curing office is the first door to the left_  
 _The suicide assistance office is the first door to the right_


	4. Dying wish(es): Upsurge

**Dying wish(es): Upsurge**

* * *

 _After Bonnie fought with Klaus in Alaric's body (season 2, 2x19 if I'm right), Damon wonders about that strange feeling that took him by surprise when he went to get the not-so-dead Witchy back. Meanwhile, if Klaus went back to his own body, the consequences of the fight are heavier than predicted on Alaric..._

* * *

 _RavensCAT (AO3) complained that Damon didn't get his goodbye kiss in my long-running fanfic, recently. This is what would have happened, though at another time of the story, if Ric had let the vampire have his way. So of course I couldn't let him have his goodbye kiss._

* * *

Damon made the golden liquid in his glass turn and whirl and swing.

When he had joined Stefan and Elena to take care of Bonnie, and not of Bonnie's corpse, as in "lifeless, dead body", because the girl was very much alive, thank you very much, he had caught a glimpse of it.

Only a glimpse.

It had lasted only one second.

And then, it had been gone.

Damon would have hought he had had an hallucination, if the sight hadn't been so blood-freezing.

But it had lasted only for a short moment.

And then, it had been gone.

But he had seen it, of that he was certain, and the sight had taken a hold of his guts, and twisted, twisted so much it hurt. What he had seen had made him as if his body had suddenly frozen over, and someone was trying to break the ice of his skin with a pickaxe. What he had seen...

The vampire wasn't sure why it was like that, or when it had become so.

But it had happened, and there was no use denying it. The mere sight of it had made him feel as if his heart had fallen out of his chest and rolled on the floor, leaving bloodied tracks behind it. Even now, thinking back on it, Damon was under the impression that if he so much as turned his head and looked at the ground, evermind that he wasn't in the school anymore, nevermind that it hadn't really happened, if he so much as turned his head and looked at the floor, he would see his heart beating slowly on the carpet, pumping out drops of jammy blood with difficulty.

Of course, he knew there was not heart on his floor puking the last drops of a thickening blood.

But that was how he felt now, as he couldn't help but remember the sight, and the tightening of his chest as his eyes had met with the blue ones, back then, in the classroom that looked like a storm had stumped in.

The vampire really had no idea how that had happened. He had no idea when or where, either. But he knew that now, it couldn't stay the same as it had been. Maybe it had been so for weeks, for all he knew. Never before had he been so clueless about his feelings, but this time, there was no telling...

Damon squinted at his glass of bourbon, as if trying to make the golden swirls of alcohol show the scene once again.

Bonnie had had to make it look like she had died fighting off Klaus as he occupied Ric's body. At some point, Damon had seen the teacher's body break and bend and snap, and while he hadn't quite liked it, because let's be honest, he was slowly becoming friend with the hunter, it hadn't been anything more than that.

He hadn't liked it, and nothing more.

Now that the vampire thought back on it, maybe it had been because he had known all along this wasn't Alaric, though it was his body. Breaking and bending and Snaping wasn't something that happened to Alaric, but to Klaus. Who, by the way, seemed to care just enough for it to make him laugh. Psycho.

Sure, Ric's body was now broken and bent and snaped, but the teacher hadn't been here when that had happened. So it wasn't as if he had felt the pain when Bonnie had destroyed his hand, or dislocated his elbow.

Apparently the Original Bastard had had a wizard backing him up, because the history teacher's body had just gotten back into shape every time Bonnie had broken something with her magic.

This wasn't what was bothering Damon.

What bothered him was that Klaus-the-body-scrounger had left the classroom as soon as Witchy had collapsed, and yet, when Damon had gone back there to collect Bonnie, he had seen a figure with to bright blue eyes watching him from the corridor.

It had lasted only one instant, but it had happened.

Their eyes had met, and...

There had been that disturbing, destructive, distressing feeling.

As if the eyes, that should have been Alaric's yet weren't, as if these eyes had, with a single look, found Damon's heart within his body, and slashed all that kept it in place, making it fall and fall and fall in a bottomless pit, somewhere the vampire hadn't even known existed, and still didn't, as a matter of fact. He knew it was there, because his heart had to be somewhere, and it wasn't in his chest anymore, but he was still alive, so his heart wasn't just out there. He knew it had to exist, that place where his heart had fallen, but he didn't have the faintest idea where this place was.

It hadn't been Ric that he had seen in these eyes, and somehow, it hurt to know that.

This body was rightfully Ric's.

There should only be Ric in it.

Only Ric. No one else than Ric.

Ric only.

But there had been someone else, and Damon had seen it, he had seen the "Klaus"-mind under the "Alaric"-looks. And he had searched, almost desperately, during that instant their eye contact had lasted, he had searched for Ric, and he hadn't found him.

At last, the vampire had gotten Bonnie to her safe house where-no-vampire-is-allowed-sorry-even-if-I-hate-you-the-ancestors-decided-it. Then he had gone back to the school to take care of the mess, blood and otherwise-disturbing-pieces-of-evidence-that-something-unnatural-had-happened.

He had found much more blood than he had thought there would be, and not only in the classroom/battlefield. It seemed that Klaus had gotten his personal wizard to patch him up right after the battle, as in, get rid of the blood that had stayed in the body, since Witchy had judged it fitting not only to break the limbs, but the organs too. If Alaric was ever to get the control of his body back, Damon could only hope there would not be anything left of the fight, or that would hurt quite a lot.

The vampire moved a bit abruptly, and the golden alcohol in his glass almost jumped out of its container.

There it was again.

If Alaric ever got his body back again.

Damon had to admit, he'd be pretty pissed if the history teacher didn't go back to being the history teacher / vampire hunter / supernatural babysitter just after when he, Damon Salvatore the Great and Mighty, had discovered he had feelings for the said history teacher. Because if Alaric never went back to being Ric, then there was no hope that he would one day become Damon's personal history teacher / vampire hunter / supernatural babysitter.

He was a very possessive person, and even more so when he wasn't even given the possibility to be possessive. When someone told the older Salvatore "No, you won't have it / him / her / whatever", the vampire had this disturbing habit of breaking the annoying someone's neck and take the thing / person / whatever anyway.

The thing was, if Alaric was no more, he couldn't take him anyway, and if the annoying someone was Klaus, good luck with getting rid of him as a vengeance.

For the first time since he had poured himself a glass of bourbon, Damon grunted.

Yes, grunted.

Fortunately, there was no one to witness his lack of style.

The vampire was about to fall back into moping, even if he would later on deny that any sort of moping / brooding / any-other-way-of-saying-he-was-about-to-cry had happened that day, when an offensive ringing gained his attention.

Once the offending cellphone was out of his pocket, Damon glared at it as if to make it melt.

Ric's number.

But Ric was unavailable, so this was most likely Klaus, in the mood to gloat over his so-called victory or something. And right now, the only thing Damon wanted to do about the Original certainly wasn't listening to his boasting. No, it was more like crucifying the bastard in the middle of nowhere, with earplugs and a mp3 playing endlessly some annoying song.

"Oh my word this tune is annoying..." or maybe "Amazing horse".

Upside down, of course, head towards the ground, feet towards the sky. And maybe one of those boxes of powder that make you want to sneeze under the nose.

You know.

Damon gulped down his bourbon and picked up. Before Klaus got a chance to speack, he drawled an unpleasant greeting that he hoped would be enough to make the Original Bastard shut up.

"If this is to boast about how you laminated our super-powered witch, I'm hanging up."

But what the vampire got for an answer made him speechless, and certainly made him forget everything about hanging up.

Alaric's voice, so far no surprise, after all, Klaus the Annoyance was body-scrounging the history teacher, Ric's voice chuckled lightly.

Damon blinked, twice.

Was Klaus the kind of villains who chuckled?

He didn't think so.

He could be wrong, but Klaus wasn't the kind of bad guy who chuckled, from what he had seen. The guy didn't even sneer. No, Klaus was more the kind of guy who simply laughed, and than told you of your impending doom cheerfully.

That was annoying, by the way, because this kind of villains was very difficult to make fun of.

But the man with Alaric's voice on the phone had chuckled, and lightly at that.

And, now that Damon thought about it, it had also sounded a bit... strained?

" _Klaus is gone, Damon."_

Which meant...

"You're back?"

" _Seems like it."_

There was a big CLANG! and Alaric asked what it had been. Damon could almost hear him furrow his eyebrows in wonder over the cellphone.

"Nothing, just me letting go of my glass, my glass colliding with the floor, and breaking because of the collision. Nothing to worry about. Where are you? No, wait, first, how are you?"

Ric was back in control, back in his body, and alive! Damon was feeling like the happy balloon itself with just this new. Well, he wasn't planning to let anyone know about it nor to start hovering in the blue sky, after all, he was Damon Salvatore the Bloddy Heartless, but he was certainly feeling the part. Even if he wasn't light enough to float in the sky, and it was way too late for said sky to be blue, or at least, light blue. Now, it was more night blue, or black, your choice.

But the happy ballon soon deflated.

" _I'm behind in the street behind my building, actually."_

He had answered the "where are you?" part...

But kept the "How are you?" part without answer.

Punctured, the happy balloon, and hissing as it shriveled through the air.

Damon's voice was a bit amiss when he asked again how Alaric was doing, and he was conscious of it, but unable to stop it.

This time, Ric answered, but before that, he kept silent long enough for the vampire to know with certainty there was something very, very wrong, and he was totally not going to like it.

" _There's a reason Klaus let me go. I'm dying, Damon."_

"What?! Don't move, stay right where you are, and don't you dare pass away while I'm on the way. I'm coming. We'll give you some of my super healing blood, you'll be back into shape in no time, you'll see."

Alaric's voice cut the vampire's rushed talking.

" _Damon."_

But he simply ignored it. Panic was taking over, and Damon didn't even care that it did, because there were more important things to deal with for now.

Maybe it wasn't like him to fret. Then again, he hadn't been in love since Katherine, so one could say it wasn't like him either to fall for the local vampire hunter. No, not Liz, you dimwit; Ric, of course.

Damon's brain was starting to behave strangely, and somehow he was feeling as if he was going to burst out laughing and crying at the same time. Conflicting emotions were really bothersome feelings... No wonder he had tried to stay away from them for so long.

"Just stay here, don't move, I'm on my w..."

When Ric interrupted him this time, the vampire couldn't ignore it. The hunter's tone was sharp, his wording quick, and he clearly wouldn't have it if Damon tried to go on ranting instead of listening.

" _Damon, I'm already dead. Bonnie broke my neck when she fought with Klaus, and the only reason I'm still talking to you is because the spell Klaus used to body-jump into me recquired his blood and mine to be in equal quantity in my veins."_

The cellphone almost fell out of Damon's hand.

"You mean you're..."

" _In transition, yes. I won't complete it, but I wanted to say goodbye, even if only to you."_

Despite the situation, despite the fact that Ric was currently dying in an alley, Damon felt his heart leap in his chest. Why even if only to him? Why to him, and no one else?

Sure, he had quite a good idea as to the answer to that question. Alaric wasn't close to Stefan; Bonnie had killed him and he wouldn't want to make her feel guilty about it, typical Alaric-behavior; Elena and Jeremy would take it hard, after all that had happened, and they might even try to convince him to turn, a thing to which he would not agree; Jenna... Damon guessed that maybe Ric could more or less guess that Klaus had ruined everything for him, and moreover, she didn't know about vampires, so it wasn't a bright idea to get her and tell her he was already dead yet not already gone; Caroline and Tyler simply weren't on the list.

The teacher would have thought Damon was the only one who would let him go peacefully and not break down afterwards. And there was the fact he was his only friend in town, too.

"I'm on my way."

And Damon hang up.

He was sorry, but unlike what Ric most certainly thought, he wasn't going to just live with the hunter's death. If it had still been about friendship, maybe he could have. But now, it wasn't mere friendship anymore.

Before leaving the boarding house, the vampire grabbed two flasks that looked exactly alike and were full. He opened the first one, inhaled a strong smell of alcohol, closed it, and did the same with the other flask.

Perfect.

The plan was in motion, just as it should be.

He only hoped he would get to Alaric before the hunter passed away from not completing the transition. It'd be a shame. Especially as Damon had a sneaking suspicion that even if a wounded man stumbled right before the transitioning Alaric Saltzman, the teacher would still have enough self-control to just walk away.

No, he had to play it more cunningly.

When Damon arrived in the alley, the first thing he saw was a vampire hunter pale like a ghost leaning against a wall. The man was already breathing heavily, and Damon wondered how much time exactly they had left. As far as he knew, the transition did not last the same amount of time for everyone, though it was never more than a few hours.

"Couldn't you have gone to die in a less visible place, like your loft just above our head?"

The history teacher still found the energy to snort at that.

Ric pointed to his chest, then to the building behind, his finger pointed somewhere towards an apartment in a vague motion.

"Klaus is gone of here, but he's not gone of there."

Damon looked disbelievingly upwards.

"You've been thrown out of your own place."

Alaric rolled his eyes dramatically.

"You'd think he'd have at least some decency to show a dying man."

"Klaus? Decency? Would you care to say that again?"

The hunter grinned a painful wince, then gestured for his friend to sit beside him. Damon complied. Asking Ric to move somewhere else simply seemed not to be an option.

"Any dying wish, maybe?"

To the vampire's surprise, Alaric sniffed at that, and arched an eyebrow.

"Actually, yes. My nose is telling me you have bourbon in there."

And he pointed at Damon's vest.

His friend grinned, and produced the two flasks from an inside pocket. Inwardly, he hoped he hadn't got it wrong, and handed the teacher one of the two flasks. One, and not the other.

"Busted. Yours."

Alaric looked longingly at the flask before he opened it.

"To say that will be the last taste on my tongue, and I'm happy about it... I really became a drunkard, didn't I?"

"You deal with people who want to kill all of us, with monsters who want to kill you, and with people who are killed, all year long. You're entitled to have one or two flaws. And it's not as if you were a mean drunk. You're more like a sad drunk, you know."

The hunter only took a large gulp before answering.

"You can speak. Drinking do no lasting damage to you."

They hadn't looked at each other since Damon had sat down with him. They were only looking at the wall, really, at nothing, in fact, just gazing into nothingness.

They stayed like that for a while, maybe ten, fifteen minutes. They talked, and said nothing. There were discussions, and times of silence. Alaric almost finished his flask, while Damon didn't touch his. He didn't even open it. Time passed, and the hunter seemed to get weaker by the minute, when Damon finally asked.

The vampire's voice was soft, almost quiet, and maybe a bit sad.

Ric didn't miss it.

Only, he didn't know what to make of it.

"You're sure there is nothing I can say that would make you change your mind?"

Alaric turned to look at his vampire of a friend.

He still had no idea how he had gotten there, but somehow he had befriended a vampire. Furthermore, the one to whom his wife had asked to be turned. The one he had sworn, so long ago, that he would stake, if that was the last thing he ever did. And said vampire and he had become hunting buddies. Usually, vampires hunting buddies. Sometimes werewolves hunting buddies, too, but that didn't happen often.

Ric guessed he must have missed a turn somewhere, and instead of Revenge Land, he had ended up in Nonsense Land.

Hunting vampires with the very vampire that had made him become a hunter.

Nonsense Land, truly.

And now, Damon was asking him if he wouldn't consider becoming a vampire too.

Alaric was surprised to detect something that looked quite a lot like anxiousness behind the uncaring mask his friend was wearing. It wasn't much, just a flicker of the upper lip, a glint in the eye. It wasn't much, and he couldn't be sure what it was. But it sure looked like anxiousness.

And it looked as if the vampire cared more than he admitted, not only that he was going to die, but also that he would leave him alone.

The hunter wouldn't have been surprised by some sadness, after all, it wasn't easy to lose a friend. But he also knew that Damon was good at hiding his emotions. Not so good at dealing with them, but good at putting a mask on. He knew that his friend wouldn't be overjoyed with losing him, but that he would still accept his decision, and say goodbye.

Just that, goodbye.

But now...

If Alaric had had the energy to be baffled, he would certainly have been. But he was feeling a bit to tired to really react.

"Damon... I have nothing to live... unlive... well, you know... for. Sure, I'd like to be there for the kids, and to help protect everyone, and to live. But not so much that I would put up with being a vampire. I don't want to see everyone grow old and die. I don't want to stay the same as the world change. I don't even have someone to share the eternity with."

As he finished talking, Alaric saw a glint come to life in Damon's eyes, like a distant fire, and for one second he wondered if he had done well to say that.

That glint, it almost seemed malicious.

Suddenly, the glint disappeared, and the vampire grinned. It was a smile the hunter knew too well, and it usually meant mischief. The thing, with Damon Salvatore, was that mischief was usually equivalent with someone's death.

If Ric hadn't already been dying, he would have backed away.

"You know what? There one more thing you'll taste before dying."

Alaric squinted.

There was something very fishy about Damon's tone.

The vampire got up.

"I'm coming back right away."

Before the hunter could ask what it was all about, Damon had disappeared. He came back only a moment later, gulping down what was left in his flask. Ric wondered if he had perhaps needed to get drunk before doing whatever he wanted to do, but the flask could hardly contain enough alcohol for that to happen.

Very, very fishy.

A strange smell reached the hunter's nose, something alluring, something very certainly good to drink, but it was faint, far away, and at the time Alaric didn't understand.

Damon crouched down next to Ric.

The vampire observed his friend for a moment, not speaking, not moving at all.

And all of a sudden, a wide-eyed Alaric found himself being kissed passionately.

It was hot, and alive, and as if the vampire was asking for more, much more, and to the hunter's surprise, he was responding with everything he had. His dying body had a sudden upsurge of energy. His back left the support of the wall behind him, his arms embraced Damon's back, his crotch was suspiciously hard and he actually thought he should be ashamed of it, before a new twist of the vampire's tongue made the thought disappear.

Finally Damon ended the kiss, and Ric noticed the strange taste in his mouth.

His eyes, that had closed themselves at some point, widened again.

"Oh no you didn't...!"

Damon evaded his glare, but opened his mouth, revealing the blood that had been in his flask and that he hadn't completely slallowed before kissing the hunter.

"Damon..."

But Alaric was stopped by the sudden pain in his jaw. A moan escaped him, and Damon looked back at the teacher. He seemed transfixed by what he saw, as his eyes fell on the news fangs in Ric's mouth.

Damon's hand cupped Alaric's jaw, and kissed him again, but slowly this time, softly.

The history teacher let him do so, and wasn't the one who broke the kiss this time either.

"See, it's not so bad. And you have someone to share eternity with, if you're willing to give me a chance."


	5. Dying wish(es): Upsurge - part 2

**Dying wish(es): Upsurge - part 2**

* * *

 _Alright. I hadn't planned to write what followed, but someone spoke of Ric's reaction... And there it is._  
 _Apologies for the wait, even if you were not expecting it. I didn't write much this month._

* * *

Damon looked over his shoulder, searching for Alaric.

While they had been busy getting rid of Klaus - and he couldn't say it had gone so well, really, he felt bad for Jenna, and even for Jules. Not for John, though. John was, or rather had been, an asshole - anyway, while they had been dealing with the crazy Original Bastard, both Ric and himself had agreed not to talk, as in, at all, about what had happened.

It would have been too damn distracting.

The vampire finally spotted the hunter, sitting in the darkest part of the room, reading. Because strangely enough, now that he was a vampire too, and had a better sight than humans, the hunter was able to read with almost no light. And for the last two weeks, he had kept himself out of any light, despite having his own daylight ring, as if he was trying to get swallowed by the darkness.

The hunter looked up from his book, as if sensing the vampire's gaze on him.

"So?"

Alaric's voice sounded a bit dull, Damon noticed. But it had been this way for weeks, now, so he said nothing.

"Still not him. 'Should have expected it, the city is way too far away from the trail he's been leaving across the coast so far."

The hunter grunted a noncommittal reply.

They had been on the roads since the beginning of the week, searching for Stefan, and this last conversation was a very good example of Ric's newfound lack of sociability.

Damon went to sit on one of the two beds, settling to watch Ric, as always.

He did that a lot, lately.

The newly turned vampire, that Damon couldn't help but still think of as a vampire hunter, only now, he was a "vampire" hunter in more than one way, the newly turned vampire was utterly ignoring his friend.

Former friend.

I-hate-you-just-enough-not-to-stake-you-at-the-first-opportunity friend.

Damn. This wasn't looking good for Damon. Not only had he lost a friend, but he had gotten on the vampire hunter's bad side. Again. As if once hadn't been enough. And now, the hunter was even deadlier than before, since, well... he was a vampire. As if the fact that Damon had foolishly fallen in love with his best friend and realized it while someone else had been hijacking the said best friend's body wasn't enough of a problem.

Because the vampire couldn't help but think he had foolishly fallen in love. Foolishly. Stupidly. Dumbly. Like everything he did, actually. He was a fool.

People didn't fall in love with Alaric Saltzman. They did sign up for a death warrant. Isobel had, and she had done buuuurn! not long ago, pile of ash in a cemetery. Jenna had, and Klaus had ripped her heart out of her chest for some ritual she had nothing to do with.

 _Think positive, Damon. You're already dead. Maybe that counts for something, and the I-love-Ric-and-I-die curse won't fall upon you too._

 _Sure, but Isobel and Jenna were both vampires, so already dead, when they died a second time._

 _Damnit, I said "think positive"! You were already a vampire before falling in love with the serial lover. Just hope it will be enough of a difference._

 _Serial lover?_

 _Yeah, because he doesn't have to actually kill a vampire. He just have to wait around and make them fall in love with him. They'll die soon enough if they do._

 _You're dumb._

 _I'm you._

 _I'm dumb._

 _'Can't say otherwise._

 _And your "serial lover" comment is only good to make me more worried for my future, since you said it yourself: I only have to wait, and I'll die. If you wanted to make me feel better, I don't know, you should have searched for another difference between me and Isobel or Jenna._

 _...I can think of three differences._

 _Well?_

 _The chest, the dick, and the balls._

…

 _What? It's true!_

 _You're stupid._

 _What can I say? I'm you. And you're getting horny, being in the same room as the guy you love._

 _Please don't mention it. It was hard enough to ignore it when his towel slipped out of his hands after his morning shower yesterday. And there's the fact that Alaric is male. How could I even fall in love with a male? I mean, I've nothing against homosexuality, but I'm just not...I mean, I only ever loved girls._

 _Wrong. You only ever loved Katherine, and Elena a bit too, because of their physical likeness, even if you grew to like her for herself after a time. That's not loving only females. And don't go and say that even without love, you've only ever fucked women. You were thinking of Katherine each and every single time. Of course you wouldn't have gone to fuck a man. Or get fucked by one, either._

 _Alright, I had a Katherine-Pierce obsession! That doesn't mean I'm bisexual._

 _'Doesn't mean you're not. And don't ignore my comment about being the one to get fucked. I know you were flinching at the thought. I know what you were thinking, when the towel fell down and you saw it. I know it because I'm you. I know every single thing you try to ignore. Don't ignore this one._

…

 _You can't hide from your subconscious, Damon._

 _Alright, alright!_

That was the moment Damon thought he'd better stop thinking altogether, even if he had no idea how to achieve that. It wasn't his fault, after all, that every time he closed his eyes, he'd see that naked and slightly wet body, and the muscles, and the...

STOP!

Stop thinking.

Stop. Thinking.

Just stare at Ric, instead. Right. Staring at Ric was very helpful. Even if it had the disadvantage of making the vampire's pants feel tight. Because when he stared at Ric, he didn't think of anything. Well, maybe he did, but he was so taken that he didn't register he was thinking.

Just as Damon stared, Alaric looked up from his book once again. It was as if he had felt someone was looking at him, and since the vampire was the only other person in the room... Creepy stare on.

Damon tried to contain the shiver that ran down his spine when Alaric's cold blue eyes fell onto his own, as if trying to make a hole through his skull at the same time.

However, he couldn't help the fact that he was a bit... disturbed by the stare. So he gulped, and tried to make it seem as if he was totally not disturbed.

It was time to talk about that, anyway.

"You'll have to choose whether you like me or hate me, eventually."

There was a long silence, during which neither Alaric nor Damon looked away. They were there, looking each other in the eyes, in silence. They were there, looking, and that was all.

There was no deep meaning in their gazes, no hidden message, not even tension.

The hunter was looking at Damon, but his eyes were far from betraying his thoughts. Maybe he wasn't thinking. He was more looking in the direction of the vampire than at the vampire. In the direction of the vampire's eyes, granted, but still. It didn't feel like he was actually looking at Damon. It was one of those very disturbing stares, when you don't really know if the person is looking at you or if you just happen to be in their line of sight.

As for the vampire, he was looking at Alaric, but in a matter-of-fact way. It wasn't demanding, nor hopeful. He was definitely looking at the hunter, but his face was carefully blank.

It was true, after all.

Ric was obviously angry with him, but he hadn't gone away after his turning.

Yes, he had tried to end his life two or three times. Alright, seventeen times in ten days. But Damon had always been there, and stopped him before it was too late. And now, he had stopped trying. Sure, Damon wasn't one-hundred-percents sure the hunter wasn't waiting for him to think there was no danger and leave him alone. That's why he was still careful not to let the newly turned vampire alone for too long. You never knew, with that guy.

But besides the fact that Alaric had tried to stab himself twice, burn with the sun six times, rip out his own heart thrice, behead himself five times and even go under a train, the hunter hadn't disagreed to stay with Damon and help him find his wayward blood-addict of a brother.

Ric was angry with being a vampire, hence, angry with Damon, since he was the one responsible for his final turning. Though the vampire felt Klaus had to be blamed, too, or it wouldn't be fair. After all, without Klaus the Original Bastard, Alaric wouldn't have been possessed, and killed with vampire blood in his body, and so Damon wouldn't have had to, nor been able to, force feed him some blood.

See? It was all Bloody Klaus' fault.

The vampire wasn't going to point that out to Alaric, though. Not yet, at least. He didn't want to be stabbed / staked / you-know... Even if it it was with this very special sword that Ric kept between his legs, he might consid...

There was something wrong with him, if he couldn't help but think of that. It wasn't as if the hunter was willing to indulge his desire. And it wasn't as if they had just spent one week with each other only, taking only one room in motels every nights, and sharing a silent presence in the vampire's car as they moved from one spot to another, searching for Stefan. There was absolutely no reason why the lovestruck vampire would feel sexually insatisfied, none at all.

Anyway. The best way not to think about something is not to think about it, and that's all. Of course, trying not to think about something just doesn't work. The thing to do was to think of something else. Something that obsessed him just as much, if possible.

So, Alaric, but not Alaric's body.

 _Get it carved in your thick skull, you love deprived good-for-nothing vampire. Not. His. Body._

As he had been thinking before getting sidetracked, despite the anger, Alaric was still there. With him. And him only. Granted, searching for Stefan as the kid was out there utterly unable to keep his fangs out of trouble. In a way, the hunter was doing this for the sake of the unsuspecting people, as he did before. The fact that Damon was here might count just as much as a coincidence. Or maybe an opportunity to murder the vampire if the hunter finally felt like it.

But still.

He'd have to thank his brother, once they'd have found him, and gotten him out of ripper-mode.

Ric was here, with him, and though he wasn't talking to him, he wasn't blaming him either. He wasn't acting pissed off, or hatefully, or violently. He just... stayed there.

With him.

He could have gone. He could have left, travelled half the country, and forgotten about Damon. He could have not returned when he had gone to buy the beers, and killed himself. Damon was keeping an eye on him, but he wasn't fooling himself, he knew he could do it only because Ric allowed him to. Hell, he could just have stayed back in Mystic Falls, with Caroline-the-super-control-freak to teach him how to rein in his new urges to tear at someone's throat.

There was no way that the hunter wasn't staying out of his free will.

Alaric was angry. Alaric was grudging. But Alaric didn't want to leave either.

So, maybe it was stupid, but Damon couldn't not hope. Maybe there was a bit more than friendship in there, in that cold gaze that revealed absolutely nothing, but that, at least, existed.

The hunter closed his book, and put it down on the nightstand. His eyes left the vampire for a long and agonizing minute, as he looked at the ceiling with no real purpose. Eventually, Damon heard him sigh.

Alaric's head went down again, and Ric's eyes found the vampire's again.

For the first time since they had left Mystic Falls, the hunter's face wasn't completely neutral.

The jaw wasn't trembling, the eyes weren't flickering, the mouth wasn't anything else than a thin line. Deliciously tempting thin line, by the way. Most of Ric's face was the same as before. Unmoving. Uncaring. Unconcerned.

But the hunter was frowning slightly.

Alaric stood up, slowly, carefully, and Damon couldn't say if he looked more like a predator coming to his prey trying not to be noticed, or like a man who sees a wounded predator and tries not to make jerky moves, just in case it would set it off. Before, Damon would have said it was the latter, as Ric had been human, and himself had been a jerk. Now... knowing the hunter, the vampire felt it was most likely the first explanation.

Did Alaric have any weapons on him right now? Maybe his question had been the straw that broke the camel. No, forget anything about imagining Ric as a camel. It certainly wasn't the time for this.

Damon froze when the hunter sat down on the bed, next to him. No weapon in sight for now.

"What are you talking about? I'm here, am I not?"


End file.
